Date: Sat, 22 Sep 2007 14:52:40 -0400
From: stimulation4u@yahoo.com
Subject: Broken In By Sam (TG; crossdressing)
Sam and I lived in the same town and had emailed each other over the course
of more than two years. We've never met. Yet. I am getting my lingerie
back together again after a fit of anxiety recently seized me about what
I'd leave behind if I were caught dead, not that I plan on that happening
anytime soon. I went through my lingerie and some of the more perverted
porno tapes I owned and threw them all away. My flat was once again
suitable for a post-mortem clean-out, even if my mother did it. Less than
4 weeks later, I scored a pretty little pair of sheer and skimpy black
panties with lace trim on eBay. I decided that if this is what I liked
doing, then I'm not hurting anybody. Guilt: Over it. Lust: Loving it.
Time Left on Earth: Priceless.
Now armed with a sense of fun and lust, I am sitting here in a black lace
ensemble: pretty bra, black lace top nylons, the laciest black garter belt
I could find on eBay, and my one nod to pink: little lace-trimmed pink
satin panties. I could get used to this.
Sam lives in the East Bay and answered an ad about an available,
non-passable pussyboy in panties that I had posted on an internet list a
couple years ago. I wasn't as serious about finding a date as I was about
jacking off while writing and reading the ad over and over again. Maybe I
was testing the water just the same. I jacked off while I was writing the
post and fantasized my brains out about raunchy sex with a sweet, bearded,
hairy, flannel-loving man that liked me all-prettied up and had me good
while I was dressed in sexy lingerie.
Anyway, Sam responded to my ad, saying "Pussyboys in women's underwear are
my favorite kind of pussyboys." There was more, oh yes, but that sentence
alone served for at least 2 or 3 rounds of cream, along with the photo of
him outdoors with his dog, the very picture of a cute and sweet bear of a
man if I ever saw one. I didn't email him back until about three hours
later, after he emailed me again, saying "Wish we could have hooked up. I
was looking forward to treating you like a good little pussyboy." Well
that melted me. I emailed him back saying I was sorry I hadn't gotten back
to him sooner. I offered to meet him on a date sometime in the next week
and he accepted.
We passed a few more emails. I hadn't sent him a picture of myself, which
he said was ok, but he admitted he was curious and wanted to visualize me
for his dick-jacking fantasies. I had told him I wasn't into wigs and
make-up and dresses, but that lingerie got me off big time. I sent him one
of the few pictures of myself that is on my computer: full-bodied and
bearded and tattooed in jeans and a t-shirt. He was surprised since he
expected someone less hairy, less meaty and more self-obsessed. The
fantasy he had started with me was about someone I wasn`t and it worried me
at first. Then right away he wrote back to say, yeah, maybe this could be
even better and more real. My real fantasy. No longer fantasy. Real.
I got nervous about the date coming up and me being dressed in front of
someone else for the first time. He reassured me that he was looking
forward to it and couldn't wait to get his hand in my panties. He sounded
like the kind of sweet man I would like to wake up with.
Over the past two years, we have made a date twice, several months apart.
Both times ended with Sam not being able to do it on the day we planned and
me not getting back in touch with him. Each time he said he still wanted
to, but getting up the courage to ask again was not easy.
So now, as I sit here in my lacy bra, panties and nylons I compose yet
another email to Sam. It's been about a year since the last time I emailed
him. I write him, "Remember me? We haven't met yet, but I still fantasize
about us in bed, and on the couch. Oh yeah and the kitchen too, and then
there's the bathroom. Anyway, you'd still be my first date dressed. I'm
real ready. Email or call if you want."
Sam must be hanging around at his computer tonight like me. I get an email
from him an hour later. He says, "Are you free right now?"
I smile. "I'm free for you. Let me tell you how to get to my place..."
A couple hours later, I'm watching out the window for Sam, knowing only the
hunky bear in the picture. I see him pulling up across the street. He
gets out and pulls at his beard, looks across the street toward my place,
but he hasn't seen me yet. I go half behind the window to watch him as he
walks and he lumbers up my stairs.
I'm not waiting for a knock. I'm opening my door in the same black
lingerie and pink panties that I had on when I sent him the email a couple
hours ago. Except the wet spot on my panties is a lot bigger now. He
smiles and plants a big hug and kiss on me right there in the doorway. I
like this.
We go into the living room. I pull a sheer black nightgown from the back
of a chair and put it on over my underwear. We sit close together on the
sofa. I offer him a beer or wine. He tells me he'll take a beer, so I go
get his beer and a glass of wine for me. When I come back in the living
room, Sam is taking a pipe and 420 out of his pocket. He loads a bowl and
we share the pipe and talk a little. He smiles easily and so do I. Every
so often, I experience a little shudder of realization that I'm sitting
here with this nice, sexy guy, and I'm wearing a bra and panties and
nightgown. Fantasy? Real. But I'm thinking he likes it because his hands
are on me all over and I'm nuzzling into him, loving it, getting hot with
my man.
Yes, he is wearing flannel. I am halfway in his lap when I unbutton the
shirt and rub his chest through his white t-shirt. He leans up to take off
the flannel and I am down on the floor working on his shoelaces. I get his
boots off quick and rub his feet. Yeah, they smell like feet, like a good
man's feet. His jeans are next. He unhooks the belt buckle while I
unbutton and pull his pants down. I don't let him take off his boxers yet.
That's something I want to take in with all my senses. He's a sexy
motherfucker in boxers and a t-shirt, short dark beard, a hairy belly
peeking through, jeans bunched around his sweaty socked feet. I get my
nose tight into the crotch of those boxers and it is soft on my face and
alive in my nose. He stands up and drops his drawers. There's my man up
there. Here I am down here. Feels right.
And here's his dick staring me in the face. A fat, cut half hard cock
bobbing away. After a moment of appreciation for my eyes, my mouth takes
over, licking it all over at first, then making out with the head and piss
slit, then inching it down slowly until I get that sweet smelling pubic
hair in my nostrils. I take a sniff each time I'm down there. When I look
up and make eye contact with Sam, his dick rooted deep in my mouth, he
smiles and I just kind of sigh as much as I can with my mouth full of dick.
Feels right.
Sam pulls me to my feet and gently pushes the nightgown from my shoulders
and lets it fall. We are standing eye to eye. I feel vulnerable and sexy
and willing to please. I feel a little shy again and look down. His eyes
are there when I look up again and he smiles broadly. Then I do. We
practically slam our mouths together for a big, wet tongue-tasting kiss and
are running hands over each other. His hand moves over the outside of my
panties, feeling my ass through the satin. Then he's in my panties. We're
still tongue-locked and we both dive into the couch to really get into this
make-out session we're having. I reach down to shuck the jeans and boxers
off of his feet. I pull those boxers up to my nose one more time and
inhale them deeply while staring into his eyes. Then I throw them across
the room. He's naked while I'm wearing sexy lingerie. Feels right.
He starts sliding my panties down my legs as we roll around on the couch.
He gets them off of me, and then he surprises me. He brings my panties up
to his nose and gives them a good sniff. "Smells good," he tells me,
"Smells like your pussy." Sweet talker. He seems to know what I want to
hear.
I am now in heat and Sam is in rut. We grind our bodies together on the
couch. When he gets on top of me, my legs automatically wrap around him.
His hard dick is rubbing up against my belly, then grinding into my crotch,
then humping between my ass cheeks. I am ready for anything. I already
had some lube on my pussy that I applied earlier. I think he felt the lube
on his cock while he was humping me. He gives a little moan and gets up on
his knees, turning me over and pulling my pussy up to where his dick is. I
want it like this. He centers his cock head at my cunt hole and spits on
it. Sexy as hell. He eases the fat head in and I hold my breath. I know
how good this is going to be and it's well worth a little pain at first.
He holds his dick head there and rubs my ass and talks dirty about how good
I look with his big dick up my pussy. Telling me how much I like Daddy
inside me. I am easing back on his dick now, saying, "Daddy, yes, yes,
fuck me." Calling him Daddy is another fantasy knocked out right here on
the couch. I am on too much of an animal level to think of much else to
say, but I call out "Yes Daddy" and "Fuck me" a lot while he keeps up his
own nasty talk. His pace and technique switch from slow to rabbit-fast to
high and low, pointing and prodding his dick everywhere it can go in there.
Every few seconds, he likes slapping my ass cheeks with the flat of his
hand. I like the way it sounds and feels. I like the Daddy and spanking
connection.
"You're Daddy's little pussy boy, aren't you? My boy's got a nice tight
pussy. Yeah, boy, Daddy's gonna breed his little pussy boy. You want
Daddy's spunk, don't you, pussy boy? Don't you?"
"God, Daddy yes I want you in there. Fuck me `til I I`m full of your
spunk. Fuck me all night. Fuck my pussy!"
We are slam-fucking at this point, Sam thrusting hard into my pussy every
time I back it up to meet him. We are both sweaty and oily and slippery.
I can feel drops of his sweat hit my backside. He circles my waist in his
arms, holds me tight against him and starts moaning my name, calling me
beautiful, calling me bitch, and finally just gently saying into my ear,
"Here you go. You're my pussyboy now," as I feel his fat dick spasm in my
pussy and his cum making me feel all juicy back there. I have my boner in
hand and shoot a powerful jet of cum after only a few strokes, keeping him
in me.
Catching our breath takes a couple of minutes and we hardly move. We're
both still on our knees and my pussy is still holding onto Sam's cock as it
begins to get softer. I put Sam's arms around me again and lower the two
of us into a stretched out position on the couch. I love the feeling of
him laying on top of me. And I like the feeling of his dick still in me
coated in his sperm and the sweat we feel all over each other's bodies. We
lay like this for minutes without talking. Breathing hard. Sighing.
Smiling.
I move from under Sam and he rolls over face up. I rise up and straddle
him and look him in the eye. Neither of us has to say that we will do this
again and again. We already know. My Daddy. His Pussyboy. Feels real.
Feels right.
The cuddling and sleeping and waking and fucking goes on pretty much all
night. The next day, he takes my panties home with him. He's keeping my
smell under his pillow and jacking his dick with the satin until our next
date this coming weekend. All weekend. By then, I'll be stocked up on
panties and anything else Daddy wants his little pussy boy to wear.